


Bucky Barnes: A Series of Drabbles

by Tilltheendwilliwrite



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, тэг заменён на Don't copy to another site
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 20:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16981110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilltheendwilliwrite/pseuds/Tilltheendwilliwrite
Summary: A series of unrelated Bucky Barnes drabbles. Summaries and warnings for each in the notes at the top of the chapter.





	1. The Cure

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Warnings: Nothing but fluff. A drabble. This is what happens when I’m bored. Spotify is my nemesis. Based on The Cure by Lady Gaga

## Bucky Barnes x Reader Drabble

* * *

You looked up from your book when the door opened.

Bucky, in all his combat gear, stumbled into your shared suite within the Avengers compound, shedding guns, gloves, and grenades with such disregard for their explosive nature it had you leaping to your feet. The look on his face spoke plainly of just how hard the latest mission had been.

Going to him, you grabbed for the belt he was getting ready to chuck across the room, the one with at least three grenades, and gently laid it over the back of the sofa. He went still, just stood there, shaking, breathing, anger radiating off him in waves.

Lifting your hand, you laid it gently against his clenched jaw. You only had one question. “Is everyone alright?”

[[MORE]]

He gave a jerky nodded.

Alive, then, but someone was hurt. “Steve?”

“Barton.”

“Bad?”

“He’ll be out a while, but he’ll live.”

Sighing in relief, you turned your attention to the buckles over his chest, working them open so his vest could slide off. Tugging his shirt from his waistband, you worked it up his abs.

“What you doing, doll?”

“Taking care of you. Is that alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Pressing up on your toes, you give his shirt a tug. “Arms up.”

A small smile twitched his lips as he complied. “Yes, ma'am.”

Drawing it off his head, the silver of his vibranium arm was revealed. A frown marred your features as you took in the explosion of bruises across his ribs, the laceration down his arm. Moving around behind him, hands gentle, you walked them over his broad back, flinching when you found more bruises.

His hair was filthy, appearing as if he’d taken a tumble through some mud at some point.

Returning to his front, you took his hand and led him through the room to the washroom.

Toeing off his boots while you turned the shower on, you turned back in time to take over when his hands sought his belt. As it came loose, you hooked your fingers in the waist of his underwear, drawing them down as you lowered to your knees. Helping him out of his socks, his fingers skated gently through your hair, a tender caress, a silent thank you.

Rising to your feet, you encouraged him into the shower. Removing your clothing with speed, you stepped in behind him. Already the water was turning brown, running in muddy streams down his face, chest and back. Eventually, you would ask, but not yet, not while his breath hitched and rattled.

Taking up the shampoo, you moved before him, unsurprised when his hands latched to your hips. Warm and cold, they stayed still, his thumb dragging small circles occasionally, but otherwise, his movements were minimal, almost as if he were afraid to move too much as if he’d shatter and break if he did. Stretching up, you worked the lather through his hair, picking out twigs and leaves, painting a picture of a flight through the brush at some point, or a hard run for his life.

The idea of it took your breath, but you didn’t let it show, not now while he was still living whatever hell he’d fought. Tipping his chin up, you helped the water rush over his scalp, lathering a second time when it again ran murky. He had beautiful hair, dark and soft, a pleasure to touch. Seeing it like this was a travesty.

Picking up a sponge and the bottle labelled antiseptic wash, you dumped a generous amount onto it. Bucky still had issues with doctors, medical bays, and cold metal tables. He did alright with Bruce, but when Banner wasn’t available, or the memories were riding him hard, only you would do.

The lab had created the soap with Bucky in mind, something he could use to wash out the worst wounds until he was comfortable having someone check him out.

You’d gotten the stuff in a paper cut once. It stung like a wicked bitch, but he didn’t even flinch when you washed out the cut on his arm, what was apparently a bullet graze on his thigh, and the strange slice you realized was a knife wound on the back of his neck. The idea of a blade anywhere near his throat had fear pounding in your heart as you touched it with your fingertips. “Bucky?”

“Self-inflicted.” He looked out at you from behind a veil of wet hair.

You arched a brow.

“Later.” 

Humming softly, you finished up, washing his thighs and calves, making sure both bruises and cuts were all covered by the soap. It’s healing properties, combine with his advance metabolism, would have the dark patches and frayed skin looking like new in no time.

Turning off the water, you stepped out, wrapped a towel around yourself, and returned with a big fluffy one to work over all of him. Drying his back you leaned forward, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.

He shivered but remained quiet.

You scrubbed the towel over his head, drying the shaggy locks, before urging him into the bedroom. Finding him a pair of briefs, you handed them over, watching as he slid them up his thighs, dressing swiftly in your own tank and shorts. A return to the bathroom had you retrieving the first aid kit.

Laid out on the bed, you silently doctored all his wounds, wrapping and bandaging when necessary. At his feet, you took out a bottle of lotion and worked it into his soles with your thumbs. He groaned, turning into putty beneath your touch.

You rubbed both feet, relaxing the tight arches, before shifting up to give his right hand the same treatment. It, too, was tense, as if it had been clenched hard for some time.

When you were finished, you climbed up on the bed, pulled the duvet up from the foot, settled in the mound of pillows and drew his head to your chest. Running your fingers through his hair, you hummed a quiet tune, soft and soothing.

His arms wrapped around your waist, tugged you in tight, and for the first time since he’d come home, Bucky took a full breath and relaxed.

“Baby,” he whispered, his face lifting to tuck up against your throat, lips leaving a gentle kiss. 

“S’okay, Bucky.” Drawing your hand down his back, you pet him like a cat, calming the writhing tide of memories and fears which haunted him.

“Love you.” On a quiet sigh, he fell asleep.

Continuing to pet and stroke, you waited, knowing another would join you, seeking the comfort of familiarity you were happy to offer.

The door opened.

You looked up, smiled at Steve in his pajama pants and t-shirt, and threw back a corner of the duvet. “C’mon.”

He crawled in, tucked his face against your abdomen, and slung an arm over both you and Bucky.

“Thanks, doll,” he murmured, squeezing gently.

“It’s fine, Stevie.” Threading your fingers through his hair, you hummed softly, happy to comfort your soldier and his best friend.

It was nothing untoward, Stevie in your bed. They’d talked about the past in New York as kids when they’d often bunked together to keep little Steve from freezing. Even after, as big Steve, when exhaustion hit, they habitually fell face down on the same flat surface together.

The first night it had happened accidentally after you’d moved in with Bucky had been a bit of a shock. Steve’s blond head had rested against the back of your shoulder, but as you’d grown up with siblings of your own, and occasionally bunked together when someone had a nightmare, you’d let it go and gone back to sleep.

Steve had done a lot of stuttering come morning, but you shrugged it off.  So he cuddled. Who cared? Sleeping between two human furnaces had proven delightful when it was cold outside.

When Steve rubbed his nose against your abdomen, you giggled quietly.

“I mean it, doll face.”

“I know, Stevie. Have a nap. You can tell me how Bucky sliced open the back of his neck later.”

Humming, he chuckled. “He was pretending to be He-Man.”

“What?” you snickered softly.

“Mmm, the whole sword strapped to your back thing. Good thing he used a little knife. He might a lopped off his head otherwise.”

“Punk,” Bucky grumbled.

“Jerk,” Steve replied.

“Can’t a guy get any sleep without you two yackity-yacking?” He gave Steve a lazy push. “Go find your own girl. Stop loving on mine.”

“Nah. Little sis cuddles are the cure for all things.” Snuggling deeper he shoved Bucky back, nothing more than a weak push.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m an overgrown security blanket. Both of you hush up and sleep,” you quipped without heat.

Mumbles of, “Yes ma'am,” came from both sides as they drifted off together.

Patting both of your boys, your lover and the one you considered your brother, you drifted off, grateful the love you shared was enough to fix what ailed them.

**-The End-**


	2. An Accidental Sputnick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on an image of the Winter Soldier with the caption: Bucky Barnes will fall unconscious after hearing the word 'Sputnik'. The word was implanted in him to shut him down while he was the Winter Soldier.

I feel like Steve would accidentally find out first. Like, there is this history of Sputnik which comes up on the History channel one night, and finding out it was the first satellite he’d be really excited about it and want to share what he’d learned with Bucky.

So, the next morning as they’re getting ready to go for a run, Steve’s all hyped because he spent half the night learning about the thing, and low Earth orbits, and how the American Sputnik crisis was what launched the Space Race.

He’s so excited he’s practically hopping on his toes waiting for Bucky to get his overgrown ass down to the kitchen so they can head out. 

Sam had stopped running with him, tired of the constant “on your left” jokes, and Steve was stoked to have Bucky to go with, even if Bucky was faster - not that he’d admit to that.

Not that Bucky would stop ragging on him for out running him during that Black Panther incident in Romania.

So, imagine his surprise when Bucky comes into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and Steve says, “Hey, jerk! You’ll never guess what I saw on TV last night!”

To which Bucky casually replies, “Punk, I told you to stay off the Playboy channel. I don’t even know why Tony gave you the option.”

Steve throws a punch, which Bucky dodges, and says, “Shut up, dumbass! I know what sex is regardless of what you assholes think!” His status as a virgin has never been verified, and he refuses to confirm or deny the truth. 

Bucky only chuckles and swipes a water bottle from the fridge. “Could have fooled me,” he snickers beneath his breath, knowing damn well Steve can hear him. 

“You’re a shit.”

“Aww, you don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I do today.” Steve glowers, disliking being teased about something he regards as private and special. 

Bucky knows that tone. It’s the same one that used to get Steve in trouble back when he was little Steve and holds up his hands in surrender. “So, what did you learn about that had you jumping like a jackrabbit?”

“It was so cool, Buck! You’d a loved it! It was this space program about Sputnik-” 

The word barely crosses his lips, and Bucky is down. Not just down, but _full fucking timber_ , and over he goes face first into the kitchen island. 

Not even Steve’s reflexes are good enough to catch the falling man, and Bucky cracks hard into the cold marble countertop. 

Terrified and unable to even fathom what the hell just happened, Steve’s screaming for help, yelling for FRIDAY to get someone from medical to the kitchen. Bucky was down! _Down, goddammit_! 

The terror is as sickening as he kneels by his best friend and tries desperately to staunch the bleeding.

***

Hours later in the infirmary, he’s hovering at the foot of Bucky’s bed like a mother hen, barking orders because no one can figure out what the hell happened. 

Tony and Sam are beginning to worry because they’ve never seen Steve lose his cool like this before. Both are wishing Bruce were around to get answers from, because if there were anyone Steve wouldn’t push, wouldn’t freak out around, it was Bruce.

No one wanted a repeat performance of the Hulk and the Helicarrier.

Finally, when Helen arrives, she brings with her a sense of calm, managing to get Steve to sit and go over everything with her, in detail, right up to the moment of Bucky’s collapse. 

By this point, Bucky has woken up, and other than a splitting headache, he feels relatively normal. No flashbacks. No murderous urges. No desire to strap on the black and hunt down Captain America. 

Steve doesn’t appreciate his attempt at humour.

Coming to the part where he was talking about the space program, Steve utters the word Sputnik, and Bucky’s eyes roll back in his head as he goes out like a light.

Steve refuses to believe the high pitched scream which echoed around the room had ever emitted from his mouth, and to this day will fight anyone who says otherwise, but it is Helen who starts to chuckle, then giggle, then give into full belly laughter, having figured it out.

“He’s... he’s....” she gasps for air, completely doubled over. “He’s got an override command!”

Tony is the next to clue in and has to cover his mouth to hide his smile, knowing Steve was on the verge of having a full star-spangled meltdown. 

Sam has no qualms about stressing out Cap. The blond super soldier has given him more than a few grey hairs, and doubles over in laughter, wondering how many times he can knock the Tin Man out before they figure out how to de-program him. 

When Steve finally gets it, realizing Bucky had a shut-off command like a fucking computer, he’s of two minds. On the one hand, he feels terrible having been the one to discover another horrible thing HYDRA has done to his friend. 

On the flip side of the coin, he wonders how many races with Bucky he can win with a single mutter of, “Sputnik.” before they figure out how to turn it off.

 


	3. The Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feelmyroarrrr asked: Oh, how about Bucky and taking him shopping as he's been sticking to Henleys and jeans. You find somewhere that has some suits and shirts plus t-shirts that show off his new arm and he's surprised by all the different things you make him get.

## The Suit

“One more thing,” you called as you threw three more shirts and two pairs of pants over the top of Bucky’s door.

“Babe, that’s five more things,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, well.” You shrugged and took a seat to wait beside the mountain of bags filled with the things you’d already purchased.

“Besides, what’s wrong with what I wear now?”

“Nothing, but haven’t you heard variety is the spice of life?” you teased.

He was smiling when he opened the door to lean against it, revealing a crisp white button up shirt and charcoal grey pants.  “Well?“

“Very nice,“ you crooned, the look making your mouth dry.

“Yeah? Nice enough to entice you to join me in here?” He cocked his head toward the space behind him.

“Getting banned from the mall is not high on my to-do list.” Even if he was damn hot in that outfit. “You still got that velvet jacket?” you asked, crossing your legs when your libido sat up and howled. 

“I don‘t know why you‘d want me to wear this frou-frou thing,“ he grumbled as he reached around the corner to drag it from a hanger and shrug it on.

“Damn,“ you whispered, rising to your feet to walk toward him and turn him to face the mirror in his room. “Just imagine it like this. Me in that red dress you love, standing by your side all night.” You traced your fingers down the sleeve covering his new arm, the reason you were out here to begin with. “Touching you, sliding my hands over you. Velvet is like chocolate after all,” you murmured stroking his arm again. “You can‘t stop at just one taste. I‘d spend all night stroking your arm, your back, your chest,” you whispered as you moved around in front of him to drag your fingers down his lapels. “I wouldn‘t be able to get enough.

His eyes were lust blown pools as the door clicked quietly shut behind him. “Babe?“

“Yeah, Buck?“ you whimpered, watching him wet his lips with his tongue.

“We‘re buying the suit, but first we’re taking it for a test drive,” he growled as he closed his new hand over your mouth and backed you into the wall.

You decided online shopping would have to suffice, for getting banned from the mall was totally worth it.

**-The End-**


	4. The Pirate Captain James Barnes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion of Bucky as a pirate that became something.... more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Smut. Rough smut.

Pirate Bucky AU... discuss.

* * *

Um... yes, please!

Bucky in tight leather pants, flowing hair, the billowing white shirt open to the navel so you can see the sheen of sweat glistening on his rock hard abs. A bead runs down his neck and disappears into the space between his pectorals while he’s fighting to secure the mainsail.

He catches you watching from the doorway to below deck and drops from the rigging to stalk toward you, standing there in only his shirt, tempting his men with the way it whips around your bare legs and clings to your full breasts. He grabs a handful of your sleep-tussled hair and punishes you with a bruising kiss while backing you into the door frame.

“Get your ass back in my bed before I have a mutiny on my hands,” he snarls, low and deadly, and bites your shoulder hard, leaving a mark that will bruise and show above the neckline of your gown later tonight when you join the men for dinner.

Still, you laugh softly, pushing the limit of his tolerance when you slip your hand into the open front of his shirt to sneak beneath the waistband of his pants and tease the hard length digging into your stomach. “I’m all yours, Bucky. They know it. And if they look, so what?”

“If you don’t get below deck in the next ten seconds, wench, I’ll make certain to give them a show worth looking at,” he growls in your ear.

“Oh? What’s that?“ you taunt, loving the gleam of lust and the scent of sea and gunpowder which lifts from his work heated skin.

He drags you around, backs you through the door, and shoves your roughly into the wall. “The kind that ends with your arse bright pink, woman! Do not tempt me to fuck you raw in front of my men!”

But his hand is already between your legs. His treatment may have been rough to get you to this stage, but his fingers are gentle when they seek you swollen and wet folds. They sink in and you both groan, and the frenzy starts as you hook your leg on his hip and he tears open the front of his pants. Then he’s inside you in a single, long, smooth thrust, stretching you apart like no one ever has.

He pauses, waits, his patience endless until you nod, and the reprieve is over as he takes you, hard and fast, just the way you like, just the way you need. He’d known it the moment you‘d appeared on deck in nothing but his shirt. 

This was what you wanted, a fast taking, a claiming, just out of sight of his men, but you know they can hear it when you shriek and moan and scream his name and he roars his conquest, releasing deep, painting your contracting walls when the two of you come quickly and at the same time.

He smirks and kisses your lips, all teeth and tongue while he pulls from your body and lowers your leg. You clean him up with the shirt you’re wearing and tuck him away, giving him a wink and a pat on the butt when he swaggers away.

You smile at Rogers, waiting patiently against the wall at the bottom of the stairs when you pass him. “First mate,” you say, perfectly secure in your semi-dressed state when you wander by.

“Must you?“ he askes, but his grin is smug. 

“Yes,“ you snicker and continue back to the cabin you share with your husband, the pirate Captain, James Buchanan Barnes.


	5. Choose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> iwillbeinmynest asked: Alright. Here's a drabble prompt with some angst. Reader and Steve have been captured by your choice of villain. When Bucky shows up to save them, the villain says he can only save one. (I think it's so cool that you're doing these btw, your writing is amazing! Thanks for considering this one!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing and angst

## Choose

Bucky slammed through the door with his gun drawn only to freeze when he caught sight of the two of you tied to chairs, bloody and beaten. There was no one else there, just you and Steve, but he was cautious. Something felt off. 

“Buck,” Steve groaned. “Run.”

But he couldn’t do that. Couldn’t leave the two of you behind after finally finding you after days of searching. He stepped farther into the room only to have the door slam shut behind him.

“Velcome, Sergeant Barnes. I have been vaiting for you.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Bucky growled, the voice Russian but familiar.

“It is very simple.” A light came on, shining directly down over Steve and Y/N. A third was pointed at a vent set near the ceiling. “You have thirty seconds to shoot one of your colleagues before I kill all three of you.” 

“Like hell, I will!” Bucky barked, striding farther into the room. 

“Ah, ah, Sergeant.” The vent began spewing some kind of white fog, likely gas. “It vill take very little of this to kill your woman. Or should I say your _vife_? The one you share with zee Captain?”

He glared at the speaker then turned and slammed his fist into the door. It didn’t even dent. 

“You shoot one, I vill let you and zee other leave.”

“Then I choose me!” Bucky bellowed. 

A tsking came through the speaker. “That is no fun. You must shoot one of your loved ones.”

“Why are you doing this?” Bucky barked as the gas cut off. 

“Because, if you are busy here, you are not interrupting my vork!” 

Bucky took a step toward Steve and Y/N.

“I could just kill you all, but vhere is the fun in that? It will be more… entertaining to vatch the two remaining suffer. So choose, Sergeant? The vife or your best friend.”

“Bucky…” Steve wheezed. “It’s okay. Just make it quick.”

“No,” you gasped. “Steve’s needed. You both are. I love you, but you need to pick me.” 

“Ten seconds, Sergeant.”

You lifted your head to lock eyes with Bucky. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “You know what to do.”

Bucky lifted his gun. 

“Buck! Bucky! NO!” Steve begged. “No, don’t!“

“She’s right,” Bucky whispered. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

“I love you, Steve…” you said, smiling at him as the tears trickled down your cheeks. 

“Three seconds.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Bucky murmured and pulled the trigger. 

He watched your body jerk once, the blood spraying, then you slumped forward, and Steve screamed. 

The door swung open at his back, and Bucky ran forward to rip the chains which bound Steve to the chair from around him before turning to your too still frame and jerking the handcuffs from around your wrists. 

“Don’t you touch her!” Steve snapped, stumbling forward to shove Bucky out of the way and gather your unresponsive body into his arms. 

“Steve…”

“Don’t you _ever_ talk to me again!” Steve said coldly and got to his feet.

Bucky watched him walk out and paced out after him, wishing it was him carrying you. Steve’s breathing was laboured, likely from broken ribs. He desperately wanted to snatch you away, pull Steve close, and hold on.

Steve hobbled his way to the waiting jet and climbed the ramp, Bucky hot on his heels. He slammed his hand on the button to close the ramp and ran to set the autopilot before turning back to see Steve standing over Y/N’s body.

“One minute,” Bucky murmured. 

“Longest sixty seconds of my fucking life,” Steve sighed. 

They counted down together, each holding one of your hands until you gave a hard gasp and sat bolt upright. 

“God, I hate dying!”

Steve practically collapsed into the table in relief. “I’m so scared one of these times you’re not going to come back.”

You cupped his face. “Steve, for you and Bucky? I’ll always come back.”

Bucky leaned his head against your shoulder and let the tears flow. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. Better me than Steve. I’m the Highlander after all,” you joked. 

“Yeah, baby, I know. There can be only one, right?”

“Damn, right, Buck,” you agree and chuckled softly. 

“You know, I kind of hate that show,” Steve sighed. 

“No, you don’t.” Bucky snickered.

A loud beeping caught all of your attention and Bucky stepped away to read the incoming message. “They caught him. He was re-watching the footage of me shooting Y/N.”

“Guess your secret’s still safe, baby,” Steve sighed. 

“Yeah,” you sighed and laid back down on the table. “Let’s go home.”

“Yeah. We’ve all got some healing to do,” Steve agreed. 

Bucky nodded but smirked at Steve, knowing nothing he’d said was true. Just a ploy to make the Voyeur think he’d won.

“Yeah, let’s go home.” 

He was going to spend the next few days holding the people he loved most close.

**_-The End-_ **


	6. Puppy Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> queen-merc asked for a flirty stucky Drabble

## Puppy Love

Steve leaned on Bucky’s shoulder and snickered. “This really was a good idea.”

“Well, after everything that’s happened, figured she could use the distraction,” Bucky murmured, grinning at the goings-on.

“You know she’s going to want to keep them all,” Steve said.

“I’m pretty sure we can get Tony to agree to one. Two if he happens to see her with them.”

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Ask Tony if he could join us, please?”

There was a moment of silence before the AI spoke again. “The boss says, “She may have one, only one, and don’t even think about begging for more.’“

“Tell Stark we said thanks,” Bucky murmured. 

“I wasn’t finished yet, Sergeant Barnes. After watching for a moment, the boss heaved a very heavy sigh and said, “Better tell them two. She’ll want two to keep each other company when they have to be away.’“

Steve barked out a laugh. “Tell Tony thanks.”

“Will do, Cap.”

The two super soldiers continued to watch their girl roughhouse with the five golden puppies, carefully watched over by their golden retriever mother. She’d been _their_ girl for almost a year, but this last two weeks had been terribly hard when her grandmother, the woman who’d raised her after mother had abandoned her, had died in her sleep. 

Elderly she’d been, but it had still been a shock for Y/N and sent them all rushing after her. He and Bucky had been out on a mission when they’d gotten the call, and it had been two days before they could go to her, their girl trying desperately to keep it together while she planned the funeral and sorted through her grandmother’s things. 

She’d fallen apart the minute they’d come through the door.

Now, a few weeks had passed, the funeral was over and they’d gotten the majority of her grandmother’s estate taken care of, but she’d been so incredibly sad. They’d found her teary-eyed and crying nearly every day, making them desperate to find a moment of joy to put a smile back on her face. 

Clint and his dog had come to the rescue, arriving with her five puppies in tow. 

Y/N had been mauled by fuzzy bundles of happiness, wriggling piles of fluff, and yipping love rolls. She’d squealed and giggled and gone to the floor with them, and been there for a solid hour.

“Should we give her the good news?“ Bucky asked Steve. 

“Yeah. I hope she doesn’t think we’re trying to replace her grandmother,” Steve worried. 

“She’s smarter than that, punk,” Bucky punched him in the shoulder.

“Then let’s help her pick some puppies.”

Steve grinned at Bucky, slapped him on the shoulder, and went to wade through a furry minefield. 

- ** _The End_** - ****


	7. An Ugly-cute Giraffe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Drabble day is back!!! Can you do one with Bucky where he accidentally finds a stuffed giraffe (that you got as a child) that you still sleep with and thinks its stupidly cute that you still sleep with it sometimes?

## An Ugly-cute Giraffe 

**Pairing** : Bucky Barnes x Reader  |  **Word Count** : 906  
 **Warnings** : smexy, fluff

[[MORE]]

He knew you had a thing about making your bed. It seemed kind of stupid to Bucky, after all, you were just going to get back in it again later, but he’d been on the unfortunate receiving end of what happened when he _didn’t_ make the bed before you got in it at night.

You’d muttered something about “wrinkles on your feet“ before wrenching the sheets back and making the bed… with him in it. The bedding whipping back when he’d been nearly asleep, exposing him to the cold air of the bedroom had been a rude awakening, but when he’d bitched about it, you‘d told him in no uncertain terms if he‘d just made the bed like you’d asked that morning, he wouldn‘t be paying for it now.

Now, the rule was the last person up made the bed. Typically, that was you, but today you’d agreed to an early run with Nat, so he’d been last out of your bed. It was also Saturday, meaning you liked to wash and change your sheets, and as he’d done his best to sweat and dirty them up with you the night before, he stripped them from the bed, threw them in a heap, and went to get fresh ones from the closet. 

But it was while he was stretching the sheet over the last corner that he kicked the pillow he’d tossed on the floor and sent is sliding under the bed. He gave an annoyed groan and got down on the floor to dig it out, patting around to find it, only to grab something soft and furry. 

_Rat_! Was his first thought, but when no warmth registered, he pulled his hand and whatever he was clutching out from beneath your bed, hoping it wasn’t a _dead_ rat, only to sit blinking at the stuffed toy. 

It was a giraffe, one well loved by the looks of it. The fur was thin in places, the neck floppy, but it was cute - in an ugly sort of way. To find out his girl had a secret stuffy made him smirk.

He placed the toy on the nightstand, dug out the pillow, and went back to making the bed. When he finished, he set the giraffe between the pillows and went to have a shower.

***

You were sitting on the bed when he came out, holding the toy in your hands. 

“Hey, babe,“ he smirked.

“Buck? Why’s this on the bed?“ you asked while fidgeting with the toy’s ear. 

“I found it underneath the bed.”

“But why is it on the bed, now?” you asked. 

“It’s ugly-cute.” He shrugged and sat beside you. “Do you sleep with it when I‘m gone?“

“No!“ you huffed, but he could tell you were lying. 

He leaned closer, pressed his lips to your neck, and chuckled, “That‘s adorable, dollface.”

You tilted your head, moaning softly when he licked the sweat from your skin. “It was my first when I was a baby.“

“Yeah?“ he asked, eyeing the rough looking critter. 

“I kept it because… I wanted my son or daughter to have it… someday.”

You looked shy, a little embarrassed, but Bucky thought it was adorable. “A kid, huh? And just who do you plan on having this rug rat with? Just know if you say anyone but me, I’m gonna have to go Winter Soldier on his ass,“ he snickered.

You looked up, face completely serious, and stared him directly in the eyes. “I was thinking Steve, actually.”

“What!” he bellowed and jerked to his feet.

A giggle became a full belly laugh when you reached out to grab him by the towel only to have it come off in your hand. “I‘m kidding!“

“You‘d better be,“ he growled, standing there naked. 

Your gaze travelled down his body, stirring parts of him to life with no more than you skimming glance. “I‘m not ready for kids yet, but… if I had to chose their daddy today? He’d be you, Bucky,“ you said softly while holding the giraffe to your chest.

He stepped closer, placed a knee on the bed beside your hip, and pushed you slowly to your back so he could straddle your thighs and loom over you. “Yeah? You want me to be your baby daddy?” he asked, his heart pounding. 

“If we get to that point,“ you said quietly. “A few hurdles to jump yet.“

He knew you meant marriage and smiled because he had that covered thanks to the black velvet box in Steve’s sock drawer. “But we could practice, you know, getting started on that kid.“

You smirked and dragged your nails down his damp chest. “Practice does make perfect,“ you agreed.

Bucky took the stuffy from your fingers and pushed it off the bed before getting started on stripping off your shirt.

“What you do that for?“ you asked when the giraffe thumped to the ground.

“If that things gonna be our kid’s first toy, it sure as shit doesn’t need to watch us make him or her,” Bucky quipped, grinning as he stripped your pants down.

“You‘re so weird!“ you laughed.

“My kid isn’t sleeping with no perv bear!” he growled and ripped the panties from your hips. 

“It‘s a giraffe, actually,“ was the last comprehensible noise you made for quite some time.

**_-The End-_ **


	8. A Life Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Could you do a Bucky drabble where he remembers that his last Hydra Handler was a woman who he kinda fell for (seriously fell for). She was a captive like him. He finds out she's being tortured because of him and trying to find his whereabouts and he and Steve at least go to rescue her. And it's the reader. There is a fluffy kiss and she becomes a Shield agent after and gives info that puts A LOT of Senators behind bars. Even some RL ones if you want. Lol

## A Lifetime

He went through the door hard and fast, sweeping high as Steve went low only to freeze when his eyes landed on _her_.

“Y/N?” Bucky whispered, horror lacing the word.

“Buck? You know her?” Steve asked, cautiously scanning the rest of the shadowed cell for any other movement.

“I did once,” he said softly, striding slowly toward the woman chained to the wall. 

“Soldat…” she whispered through broken teeth and messed up mouth. Her eyes were nearly swollen shut, but one had just enough space left for him to see the gleam of fear. “Run… leave me,” she murmured. “Don’t… get… caught.”

“How long have you been here, _lisa_ ,“ he asked, calling her _fox_ as had been her handle.

“Since… you… ran,” she whimpered. 

He tore the restraints from her arms and wrists, cringing when she screamed with the agony of having her arms fall and shoulders grind back into place. “ _Lisa_ , why didn’t you run?”

When he’d fled Hydra after his fight with Steve during the fall of SHIELD he’d assumed she would flee as he had. Escape to live a normal life outside Hydra’s control.

“Too… slow,” she murmured. “They… caught me.” Her face was pale, and lip split when she smiled. “Kill me,” she begged. 

“No, no, _lisa_. I’m going to save you,” he whispered, his forehead against her temple. “Together, we’ll burn them to the ground.”

“Promise?” she wheezed.

“Cross my heart, darlin’,” he swore and placed a soft kiss on her hair when she passed out. “Steve, she’s coming with us.”

“Buck? What do you even know about her?” Steve asked, jogging to keep up and keep anyone from stopping them.

“She was my last handler before I finally broke the programming. Codename _Lisa_ , because the other agents called her a Fox. She ran the show before… well, before. She was the one who dug the tracker from my neck. She’s the one who told me to run when things went south. She’s the only one who ever treated me as _human_ rather than just The Asset. She helped me get out, and this is what they did in retaliation. She’s been here _years_ , Steve! _Years_! If I’d know…” Bucky shook his head. 

He should have tried harder to find her, but he’d been scared of leading what was left of Hydra to her as well. 

“You’re in love with her,” Steve chuckled, knowing him all too well.

“Yeah, a little,” Bucky agreed. “But who wouldn’t love their Angel of Mercy?”

“She feel the same for you?“ 

“I don’t know,” Bucky murmured. “But she’ll be an asset to us. She’s got more names and faces memorized, and more intel on Hydra than you’ll ever be able to wade through.“ He grinned wickedly at Steve. “She’s going to bring it all down.”

***

It took three more months of rehab, debriefings, and slowly fading suspicion before the others began to see her as Bucky did. 

And in that time she healed, she purged her soul, and she did exactly what Bucky had promised. She brought the heads of Hydra to their knees, naming names and giving them ways of following the money no one had even known existed. 

The others had started calling her _Lisa_ as well because she’d become the fox rampaging through Hydra’s henhouse. Once her face had healed up, the nickname made even more sense.

But for Bucky, it was a game of agonizing waiting. He’d spent as much time with her as he could, but she was constantly under scrutiny until the heads of state, politicians, and generally important people had crashed and burned with her unveiling.

She’d done it. She’d brought them down in a blaze of glory unlike anyone had thought possible. 

Finally, after three months of healing, she’d been released from medical and given a suite of rooms, ones no longer under guard.

Bucky knocked hesitantly on her door, afraid for the first time in a long time. He’d stuck by her side as best he could, standing up for her when others had questioned her loyalty. They’d been close once. Too close for the higher-ups of Hydra. 

When the quiet call of _come in_ came, he pushed open the door to see her standing in the sun shining brightly through the window. 

“It’s about time you came to see me,” she said softly as he shut the door.

“I’ve seen you every day, or very nearly,” he said, making his way toward her.

“With others around, or standing as my shadow when the naysayers came to question my loyalties. Never alone.”

“I wasn’t certain where… we stand, Y/N. It’s been a lot of years. A lot of years,” he said softly, hoarsely, staring at her standing with her cane.

Her leg had been broken so many times and healed poorly so many times it no longer worked correctly. Tony was in the process of building her an apparatus similar to what Rhody wore, but it would take time.

“A lifetime ago,” he whispered. 

“Yet you saved me, protected me, stood by me when this all went down. You didn’t have to, Bucky. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

“Yes, I did. I had to because even if it was a lifetime ago,” he took the final step toward her and lifted his hand to caress her cheek, “I loved you.”

“James,” she whispered and closed her eyes as a single tear trickled down her cheek.

“I still love you,” he croaked as he tilted her face up and ran his hand through her hair.

“You were the only thing,” she sobbed softly, “that kept me alive. Knowing you were out and safe… I dreamed of you, happy, healthy, and it gave me hope. They kept me alive because they _couldn’t_ get to you.”

“ _Malyutka_ , my little fox.” He brushed the tears from her face. 

“I love you, Bucky,” she whispered. “I’ve always loved you.”

“Good,” he smiled. “Because I’m not letting my little fox out of my sight ever again.” Slowly, he leaned closer, giving her time to pull away if she wished, but when she only lifted her face closer to his, Bucky closed the distance and finally, _finally_ kissed her as he’d wanted to do for years.

Soft, gentle, reverent. He kissed her like he’d wanted to kiss her for what felt like a lifetime. He kissed her until spots danced behind his eyes from lack of air. 

“Wow,” she giggled. 

“Yeah,” he sighed happily. “Wanted to do that for a while.”

“For a lifetime,” she agreed.

“A lifetime,” Bucky smiled and rested his forehead against hers. 

**_-The End-_ **


	9. Stolen Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Can I please get flirty Bucky in the kitchen? I feel like baking cookies and I've thought about him with me many times 😙 thanks! 🌹

## Stolen Cookies

“No,” you stated firmly pointing the wooden spoon at the fluffy haired supersoldier who’d just jogged into the kitchen.

“But… cookies?” he whimpered, his lip quivering as he pointed at the pan fresh from the oven.

“No, Bucky!” You refused to let the sad puppy eyes and quivering chin get to you. “The last time I made cookies _for everyone_ , you ate them all!”

“I did not!” he gasped, slowly placing a hand upon his heart as if greatly offended. 

You only threw him an exasperated glare. “Five _dozen_ chocolate chip cookies, Barnes. Five _dozen_! They didn’t grow legs and walked away!”

He pouted and took a step toward the pan. 

“Don’t,” you warned him, wooden spoon held aloft.

He took another step.

“I will smack you so hard, Bucky!”

His hand darted out, and you rapped him hard on the knuckles. “Ow! Dammit, doll!”

He shook his hand vigorously while you smirked at him. “I told you not to touch. They’re for everyone when they get back, and I’m not making an entirely new batch because you can’t control your sweet tooth.”

Big blue-grey eyes twinkled right before he reached out again. You swung and cracked the spoon down only to have it snap in half when it broke on his metal hand. He grabbed the entire pan and darted for the door. 

“That’s cheating, Barnes!”

“Nope, that’s using your brain, sweetheart!” he called as he sauntered away with his stolen cookies. 

**_-The End-_ **


	10. Birthday Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for @honey-bee-holly ‘s #honeybeehollywritingchallenge. Happy Birthday, Holly! I hope you like it. It’s short and sweet and fluffy.  
> Prompt: “Well, aren’t you just dark and gloomy today.”
> 
> Warnings: A little angst, mostly fluff

## A Bucky Barnes Drabble

* * *

You flopped down on the couch in the common room of the Avengers tower with a hefty sigh, slowly falling to the right until your head landed on Clint’s thigh.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, stroking your hair, continuing to watch the Great British Baking Show. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you murmured, grumpy with life and everyone in it except for like three people, Clint being one of them.

“You just fell over like a sleepy panda cub in one of those YouTube videos. Spill.” He poked you in the cheek.

You rolled over, wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his belly. “It’s nothing.”

“Now you’re acting like an octopus. What the hell’s wrong?” Clint asked, concern in his voice.

[[MORE]]

“Mark broke up with me.”

“What! Why?”

“He’s seeing someone else,” you sighed. “And… everyone forgot my birthday.”

Clint’s hand froze in your hair. “Oh, my god, Y/N! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine,” you murmured. “No one remembered last year either.”

“SHIT!” he barked. “Two years in a row?”

“I said it’s fine. Not like it matters.”

“Of course it matters!” he huffed and tried to wiggle out from your hold. “Let me up.”

“No. Can’t I just stay here? I’m sad, and I want cuddles,” you pouted. The last few days had been a lead up to a letdown. Why you kept getting your hopes up for something you knew would be a disappointment you didn’t know. Between boyfriends and birthdays, you may as well give up on both.

“Fine, but after cuddles, you’re getting changed, and we’re going out to celebrate your birthday.”

“Whatever,” you sighed. “Naps first.” Clint stroked his fingers through your hair, and you quickly fell asleep.

***

Twenty minutes later Y/N was asleep, and Clint was seething. Angry at himself and the rest of the people who lived in the damn tower, he was rapidly texting with one hand when Bucky stalked through the door with his phone in hand.

“What the hell, Barton?” he growled. “Why am I an asshole?”

Glaring at him over his shoulder, Clint knew Barnes wouldn’t be able to see Y/N wrapped around him like a snake and lifted a finger to his lips. “Everyone in this place is an asshole!” he hissed.

“Well, aren’t you just dark and gloomy today. Who peed in your cornflakes?” Bucky sneered stalking toward the couch. He slowed and frowned when his gaze landed on Y/N snuggled against Clint’s abdomen. “What happened?”

“That idiot she was dating dumped her.”

“Oh?” Bucky arched a brow.

Clint could see the pleasure the idea gave him and flipped him off. “You don’t need to sound so chipper about it.”

“Why are you mad? No one liked the dipshit.”

“Because he dumped her and all of us missed her birthday!” Clint snarled.

Bucky nearly missed the back of the couch when he went to sit on it. “What? That’s not possible.”

“Two years in a row.”

“No! That’s not possible. Friday?” Bucky called to the AI. “When’s Y/N’s birthday?”

“Unknown. The date isn’t listed on any of her documents.”

“How in the hell is that possible?” Clint muttered.

Bucky opened and closed his mouth, then shrugged. “You’ve got me.”

Clint waved him away. “Well, we’ve got to fix this. Barnes, round up the troops. We’re going out tonight, and we’re going to celebrate like we’ve never celebrated before.”

***

You woke an hour later to Clint still stroking your hair. “Hey,” you sighed, finally unwrapping yourself from his waist. Your arms and shoulders had gone numb causing you to shake them to get the pins and needles out.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

You shrugged. “It is what it is.”

He jumped up, the quickness of his action making you jolt. “Nope, not good enough. Go put on a party dress. We’re going dancing.”

“You hate dancing,” you huffed, rolling your eyes.

“But you like dancing. So get dressed. Hair, makeup, all of it. We’re going out, and we’re going to celebrate two years of birthdays and the fact you’ve lost two hundred and ten pounds.”

You sat there blinking at him for a minute before it dawned on you what he was getting at. Your ex-boyfriend weighed about that much. “Cute,” you chuckled. “Alright. I’ll go put something together.”

“Good. I’ll meet you downstairs in thirty.”

“Forty-five.”

“Thirty.”

“Fifty!” you called, feeling a little better.

“That’s not how negotiations work!” he bellowed after you.

***

Dressed, coiffed, and made up, you clicked your way off the elevator in your favourite set of heels while working to close the clutch in your hand. They were never big enough to hold all the things you considered essential for a night out, but packing a bigger bag was no fun when you were clubbing.

When a metal hand reached out and easily clicked it closed, your head whipped up to find Bucky standing before you. “Bucky?” he looked damn good in his dark blue suit. When you looked past him, you realized everyone was waiting. The entire team looked terrific but contrite.

“Sorry for missing your birthday, doll,” Bucky murmured, handing back your clutch.

“We had no idea Friday didn’t have it listed,” Tony said.

“It’s not?” you frowned. “But I put it on all my intake forms.”

“Someone’s about to be fired,” Sam chuckled. “Happy belated, Y/N. How late are we?”

“It was two days ago,” you said, feeling tears burn your eyes. “I thought you all forgot.”

“You should know by now we don’t forget birthdays, Y/N,” Steve said. “We just didn’t know.”

A smile slowly spread over your lips. “That’s okay, Cap. Clearly, there was a glitch somewhere.”

“One that’s now remedied,” Tony assured you.

“Well, let’s get this party on the road!” Natasha said, heading toward an oversized limo.

“We’re taking a limo?” you asked.

“Of course,” Tony scoffed and climbed inside.

Clint came over and kissed your cheek. “Happy birthday, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Clint,” you said, throwing your arms around his neck. “You’re a great friend.”

“Darlin’, I’m the best friend!” he laughed and swung you in a circle.

You didn’t notice the dopey smile on Bucky’s face, but Clint smirked at him.

***

Five drinks in you were nicely buzzed letting Sam spin you around the dance floor. You were loose and soft and what sadness had been hanging around you disappeared in the flashing lights and thudding music. The truth of it was you were more upset by your friends missing your birthday than your boyfriend leaving, having never really been happy with him, to begin with, only going through the motions.

When Sam gave you a spin, and you landed in a new set of arms, you laughed and smiled up at Bucky. He’d lost the jacket at some point, giving you a nice view of how his thick chest stretched his shirt, and how his thighs and ass strained his pants. If you were honest with yourself, it was Bucky you wanted, but the timing had always been off between you.

But now, as you smiled up at him, you knew something had changed.

He pulled you closer, the hard metal of his hand spreading over your upper back when his flesh hand cupped your cheek. “Happy birthday, baby doll,” he murmured right before ducking his head and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to your lips.

You tilted your head and deepened it, wanting the taste of him on your tongue. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you swayed together, kissing softly beneath the shifting lights until you both had to come up for air.

“That’s the best present I’ve ever gotten,” you smirked, resting your head against his chest.

“First time I’ve ever gotten a gift on someone else’s birthday,” he chuckled.

You laughed and looked up at him. “Just as long as it’s the gift that keeps on giving.”

“Seeing as I’ve been waiting for you for a long time? Yeah, Y/N. I plan on giving.” He placed a kiss on your cheek. “And giving.” Another on your nose. “And giving for a long, long time.”

The final kiss landed on your lips as the rest of your teammates cheered and catcalled and sang happy birthday.

“Stop sucking face and come cut the cake!” Clint called out.

You flipped him off and kissed Bucky again.

**_-The End-_ **


End file.
